Take What You're Given
by Facetiouslymischievious
Summary: We fought and said things we didn't mean. But when it came down to it, we loved each other. So I did what he asked, for the most part. But when he said I couldn't stay... that I had to leave Brooklyn... that was going a little too far.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** I don't own Newsies (actually, I do… sorta kinda. I own the DVD and the CD… does that count?) Anyways… I don't own any character you recognize. They belong to Disney (at least until my friend becomes a multi billionaire like she promised to do and buys them. Then they'll belong to her. Except for Spot, cuz she promised to buy him for me as a b-day present, so he'll belong to me! ) ((smiles and sighs dreamily)) Anyway, this is my disclaimer for the whole flippin' story, cuz I hate disclaimers, okay? I don't own 'em. Got it? Good. Now on with the chapter!

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Being the sister of one of the best known leaders in all of New York isn't all it's cracked up to be. Most people, they think it'd be great, but they're wrong. It means that you're on the 'wanted' list of every one of your brother's enemies. You're constantly watched by your brother's spies, un-mercilessly questioned about your whereabouts, and relentlessly overprotected, much to your disdain. All of this gets multiplied ten-fold when you're Spot Conlon's sister because everyone knows that he has more enemies then friends. Welcome to my life… enter if you dare.

When we were younger, me and Spot were pretty close. Back then we were known as Quin and Patrick, though my whole name was really Quinlyn. When we became newsies together, we became known as Spot and Song. Me because I sang all the time, and him because he used to always joke that when I became rich and famous one day he wanted everyone to know that he "spotted" me first.

We were practically inseparable, having had to depend on each other in order to survive on the streets. But that was all before he became the leader of Brooklyn… and it was way before he turned thirteen and suddenly had his eyes on every girl that he passed by. Once he finally settled on one, I was history, his spare time being totally taken up by his beloved Charm. Still, he would send me the occasional smile or poke to let me know that, in his world, I still existed. Then Charm caught pneumonia, and five days later, we were having her funeral. That day, I lost my brother completely. He was only a shell of his former, fun loving self. His eyes became cold, distant, and unreadable. He didn't speak to anyone unless necessary. He never cracked a smile and his eyes stopped twinkling like they always used to. I was devastated.

His rise to power came shortly after, just a few days after his fourteenth birthday. A man with control is a dangerous thing, but I always believed that he could use it wisely. The day he was deemed leader, the youngest known to Brooklyn, I walked up to him, a tentative smile on my face. We hadn't spoken in weeks.

"Uh… hey, Spot. Kin I talk witcha for a sec?" I asked.

He looked over at me, his blue eyes indecipherable. "'Course, Song. What's up?"

I looked down at the wooden planking beneath my feet. "I, uh… I wanted ta say congratulations." I looked up, a proud smile on my face. "You're gonna be a great leadah."

His lips twitched slightly, revealing a glimpse of a half-smile. "Thanks, Song." I nodded and began to walk away, hating how our conversations had to be stilted, when I heard his voice call after me. "Hey, wait a sec, Song!" I turned, looking back at him. His eyes flashed with emotion, something I hadn't seen in a while, as he began to walk towards me. I tried to decipher what it was. Sadness… regret? "Song… I've been a lousy bruddah." He stopped in front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I wanna make it up to ya."

I smiled, throwing my arms around him in a hug. "Oh, Spot! I missed you!" My smile disappeared just as quickly as I felt myself being pushed off him.

"Get offa me, Song!" he snapped. I stepped back, eyes radiating hurt. He didn't care. "Ya can't jist go huggin' me! I'se da leadah a Brooklyn now. I gotta make me a reputation. If da other boroughs think I'se soft, den I ain't no leadah!"

I blinked back the quick tears that were filling my eyes. "Spot… I'm sorry… I-" I stopped, shaking my head. "Ya know what… nevahmind. Let's jist forget dat we're even related." I turned, walking away.

"Wait… Song! No, dat's not what I meant!" he called after me, but I ignored him.

I asked for him to forget that we were related, but that's not what happened. Although we never made up for what happened that day, he treated me differently than the rest of his newsies. If one of the others was late, they'd get a glare. If I was late, I'd get a talk.

"Song," he would say, his eyes ice cold. "Yer late."

I'd roll my eyes. "Yes, I know, Spot."

He'd continue to glare. "Ya know dat I don' like it when yer late."

I'd smile, falsely sweet, "Yes, I know, Spot."

And so it would go on. He'd want to know where I was, which really wasn't any of his business. Usually, the answer was the docks. I loved sitting out there at night. Still do. I like to hang my legs over the side and close my eyes, letting the darkness surround me, serenading me with the quiet lapping of the water and the sounds of a city going to sleep. Spot knew, however, just as well as I did, that the city isn't safe at night. Well, the city isn't safe at any time, but especially at night.

One night, I got sick of his overprotection of me. "Spot, you aren't da boss a me, alright! I make me own decisions. If I wanna take my chances out there, den I will, okay? Ya nevah do dis wit any a da rest a dem!"

His jaw set, and I could tell he was livid. "Song, I ain't askin' yer opinion. I'm tellin' ya, fer da last time, ta get in 'ere by curfew!"

I rolled my eyes. "Your preoccupation with my bed time is getting old, Spot. Ya need ta get yerself a goil." The minute the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to apologize, but he held up a hand.

He took a deep breath, and I couldn't tell whether he was trying to keep from exploding at me or crying like a little baby. When he had reined in his emotions, he looked at me, his gaze laced with pain so raw that I could practically feel it. "I had a goil, Song, an' I lost 'er to da streets. I ain't about ta loose you too."

That was the night I realized that he really did care about me. It didn't matter that our relationship wasn't the same as it used to, we were still brother and sister, and that was all that mattered. So, after that, I tried to be on time. I watched my back and tried to put up with his incessant nagging. He was my brother; after all, that's what he was supposed to do. But when he said that I couldn't stay in Brooklyn anymore… that I had to go to Manhattan… that was going a little too far.

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**A/N:** Okay, I know this chapter was a little boring. I don't really like it that much, but I wanted to establish the characters before I got into the story. My next chapter will be better, I promise. (crosses heart and hopes to die) Okay… I've rambled enough. Tootles! 


	2. Manhattan

**A/N: **Thanks a lot to those who reviewed! I'm so happy, happy, happy!

jammer587: Thanks so much! I liked that part too. I'm glad that you could feel the emotion. I try hard to describe emotion so that my readers can feel like they're there. A lot of times, I feel like I'm playing the part of the character, and that helps a lot with making the emotion real.

Teepot: Well… Song invades Manhattan in this chapter! As for what she'll get into, who knows! And as for her fancy… well, I hope you're satisfied when the time comes! LOL

Harmony Remarc: Thanks so much for being honest. I hope that this chapter pleases you. :)

Betchya O'Conner: Your review was one of the best I've received in any story I've written! Thank you so much! I'm really glad that you enjoyed that chapter, and I hope that you enjoy this one just as much if not more!

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"Song! Song, wake up!" a voice hissed into my ear. 

I reluctantly opened one eye. "Whaddaya want?" I groaned to the blurry figure.

"Pack yer stuff," it commanded in a voice that could only be my brother's.

"Excuse me?" I asked in disbelief, my formerly sleepy eyes shooting open.

"Ya hoid me, Song. Pack yer stuff." Spot dropped a bag on top of me and began to climb up to his bunk above mine.

I tossed the bag to the ground before rolling out. "Why? Where are we going?" I called up to him. His head appeared a second later, his expression cross.

"Shut up, Song!" he hissed. "Ya wanna wake da whole room?"

"Maybe!" I shot back; irritated that he wasn't giving me any information.

He hopped down, landing mere inches in front of me. "Listen, Song. Ya know dat we're in a borough war, right?"

I nodded. Duh! How could anyone not know that? There were only two boroughs who hadn't joined yet. Staten Island and Manhattan. The rest were joining forces, picking sides and weapons… stuff like that. No one had started anything yet, but we were all on our toes.

"Well… it's startin'," he said, picking up the bag I'd tossed and stuffing my pillow into it along with the clothes I kept underneath.

I gasped. "No!" He nodded, walking towards the door to exit the room. I followed, close behind. "How do ya know?"

He chuckled. "I'm Spot Conlon… it's me job ta know."

I rolled my eyes. His ego would never cease to amaze me. "Okay, so ya know. But what does dat 'ave ta do wit you- Hey!" I exclaimed. "What are ya doin' wit dat!"

He paused, in the process of stuffing my hairbrush and toothbrush into the bag, and rolled his eyes as if I had asked the dumbest question ever. "I'm packin' it?" he said, giving me a 'did you really just ask me that?' look.

Suddenly, I realized what he was doing. "Oh, no ya don't, Spot Conlon! I ain't goin' anywhere!"

He zipped the bag, satisfied that he had everything. Then he met my eyes, holding it out to me. "Yes, you are."

I stepped back, crossing my arms. "No, I'm not! I know how ta fight jist as good as anyone! You've fought me yerself! An' ya know dat I'm good wit a sling shot… bettah den you, even!" He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I am!" I defended.

He shook his head and threw the bag at me, causing me to catch it out of reflex. "Yer goin', end a story." He walked out of the washroom, and I followed, once again.

"Well, ya gonna tell me where I'm goin?" I thought for a minute. Who were our allies? "Harlem? Queens?"

He laughed dryly. "Oh, yeah. I'se sending ya dere cuz dey can really take care a ya."

"Stop being a sarcastic!" I snapped. "It's my life you're changin' here, Patrick!"

He spun at the use of his real name, causing me to practically run into him. "I know dat, Quinlyn!" he snapped back. His eyes softened. "Yer goin' ta Manhattan. It's fer yer own good."

I shook my head sadly. "Ya don't get it. I wanna stay here."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know." He gave me a crooked smile, something I only had received a number of occasions since Charm died, most of them during the strike when he was acting like his old self for a while. "Yer stupid, ya know dat?"

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. Then I grinned mischievously. "If I miss 'em wit a sling shot, I could jist give 'em da famous 'Conlon' glare. Dat'd send 'em runnin!"

Spot smiled… actually smiled, and released a chuckle that was sincerely amused. "Only two people in da whole world kin pull dat glare off, ya know."

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yup, an' dere's only two people in da whole world dat kin take it."

He sobered at that and looked out a nearby window. "If only dat were true, Song. If only dat were true."

My mood dampened at his sudden seriousness. "So... can I stay? Please? Don't make me leave, Spot. I love this place jist as much as you do."

He turned, meeting my eyes. Resolve was written firmly in his features. "No."

I stomped my foot, very childishly, I know, but I was angry! "You can't control me! I'm not as stupid or helpless as you think!"

His eyes flashed as he gripped my shoulders. "I ain't stupid, either, Quinlyn! We're outnumbered! I don't know who's gonna make it!"

I blinked, shocked at what he had just said. "W-what? We're outnumbered? What are ya talkin' about? We're even."

"No, we're not!" He released my shoulders from his firm grip and turned away, running his fingers through his hair. "Queens… dey ain't wit us anymore."

"Oh." He didn't need to say anything else. Without Queens we _were_ outnumbered… and badly. Next to Brooklyn, Queens was the toughest borough out there. I shook my head, the information about Queens having settled in. "Wait… Queens? Dat means dat…" I trailed off, looking at my brother for confirmation.

He nodded, compassion in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Song." His eyes hardened as quickly as they had filled with compassion. He gritted his teeth, "I can't believe I trusted him!"

My eyes were quickly filling with tears, but I held them back, refusing to cry. "I can't believe _I_ trusted him! He said he respected you, that he'd stay wit ya no mattah what! I… I believed him! I-"

"I know, Song. I believed 'im too-"

"No!" I practically screamed. "He can't do dis to us!"

Spot grabbed my shoulder and shook me. "Song, calm down!"

I shot him a disbelieving look. "Calm down! Calm down? I'm not gonna calm down! And I'm not goin' ta 'Hattan! I'm stayin' here. I'm fightin' dat bastard and his-"

"No, you're not!" he roared, causing me to stop out of pure shock. I'd never seen him so angry before. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice so that it was a low growl. "You are goin' ta Manhattan wheddah ya want ta or not… period." He held up a hand as I opened my mouth. "Not anuddah woid, Song. I'm not listenin'." He pointed to the bag that I had dropped to the floor. "Pick dat up an' come wit me. We're leavin'."

I placed my fists on my hips and glared at him. "Make me!"

He shook his head slowly, sighing. Next thing I knew, I was slung over his shoulder, my bag in his free hand. "Put me down, Conlon!" I screeched, but he just shifted me slightly and gripped my legs harder. I squirmed and yelled and hit and kicked, but his grasp didn't loosen. I finally gave up, becoming dead weight. By the time we'd crossed the bridge, he was breathing heavily. "Ya wanna put me down now, Spot?" I questioned somewhat condescendingly.

He grunted, and left it at that.

There was silence for a few more minutes as he continued to walk. Then, out of an alley from our right came a blur of motion. I heard Spot 'umph' and the next thing I knew I was hitting the ground… hard. I gasped for air, my eyes widening as my lungs didn't respond. The sounds of two people fighting filled my ears. I turned my head so that I could see my brother and the other figure. Air was slowly beginning to enter my lungs. I took a deep breath, clearing the black dots dancing before my eyes, and pushed myself up before reaching for my sling shot in my back pocket. I swore as my hand met the cloth of my pants. I looked around me, searching the ground for my weapon. My eyes landed on the wood and I grabbed it, swiftly slipping a marble into it and aiming. My target let out a yowl of pain and surprise. My brother had him pinned in an instant. "Ya don't wanna mess wit me, Delancy," he growled.

"Get offa me, Conlon," came the figure's muffled reply.

"Ha!" Spot scoffed. He firmly grasped both the boy's hands, pinning them behind his back. He looked over at me, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. "Ya okay, Song?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'se fine."

He looked me over and when satisfied I was telling the truth, he motioned to me with a jerk of his head. "Gimme a hand."

I walked over. "Whaddaya want me ta do?"

He smirked. "Be intimidating."

I raised an eyebrow. "Sure thing, Spotty." He sent me a glare at the nickname, which I pretended to miss as I pulled out my slingshot from my back pocket, aiming it at the guy's head. "Ya try anythin', and yer history, bub," I said in my best dark, brooding voice.

I heard Spot snort softly, and it was I who sent him a glare. "Shut up, Conlon, I kin turn on you jist as easy."

"Uh-huh, right, Song." He grunted as he pulled the boy from the ground. Then he swiftly shoved him back into the alleyway he came from, causing the boy to stumble and fall. "Git lost," Spot snarled into the alleyway. We watched as the boy scrambled to his feet, mumbling threats of revenge.

As soon as Spot was sure the boy was gone, he turned to me. "Ya sure you're okay?"

I nodded. "Bruised, maybe, but okay."

He nodded, his keen, sharp eyes once again looking me over. "Dirty too," he finally relented.

I gave him a playful shove. "Shut up." I watched him double check to make sure he still had his cane and sling shot before asking him the question on my mind. "Who was that?"

He bent to pick up my bag, which had rolled a few feet away. "A Delancy. I ain't sure which one, but dey're trouble. Ya watch out fer dem, ya hear?" He slug the strap of the bag over one shoulder and then turned to me. "Now… please be a good little goil and don't make me carry ya again."

I crossed my arms, as stubborn as always. "I don't wanna go ta Manhattan."

He sighed. "Look, Song, you'll like it dere. Da boys are nice. An' Jack's dere. He's a good lookin' fellow. Don't he interest ya at all?"

I snorted. "Don't he have a goil?"

He rolled his eyes. "He has his pick a goils, but none as pretty as you."

I smiled. "Aw, Spot, that was really sweet!"

If I didn't know him so well, I'd say he blushed. "Jist statin' facts, Sis. Come on, let's get outta here."

I raised my eyebrows. "I don't know what makes you think dat I agreed ta dis. Sweet talkin' me ain't gettin' ya nowhere." I leaned toward him, as if divulging a huge secret, "I don't have a crush on you like da oddah half a da goils in Brooklyn."

He sighed, "Alright, enough fun. I'd like ta get back before daylight ta share da delightful news wit da rest a me newsies."

I nodded firmly. "Good idea… so would I." He shook his head and began to walk toward me. My eyes widened, and I began to back away. "No… Spot! No! Spot, put me down!"

0o0o0o0

Ten minutes later, we were at the entrance to the Manhattan lodging house. I inwardly cursed my small size. Although Spot and I were both small, he had a good five inches on me, and quite a few pounds as well. The two years that separated our ages contributed to that fact slightly, but mostly it was because he was all muscle… and I'm sure that ego of his carried a good amount of weight as well. I, on the other hand, was not only modest, but petite.

I sighed as he grumbled under his breath, shifting my weight for the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes. "Ya know… if ya didn't have yer heart set on draggin' me here against my will, ya wouldn't have ta be carryin' me," I derisively suggested.

"How much weight have you gained since da last time I carried ya?" he shot back.

I rolled my eyes as we entered the dim lodging house. "Ya mean when I was four?"

He dumped me on a couch located on the side of the room. "Whatevah."

0o0o0o0

**Audience POV**

Every boy was sound asleep in the bunkroom as Spot Conlon slowly opened the squeaky door, making sure to make as little noise as possible. He immediately spotted who he was looking for and began walking through the rows of sleeping boys, laughing at the state of some of Manhattan's toughest kids. When he reached his destination, he stretched up, and spoke in a loud whisper. "Jacky-Boy!" Jack groaned and rolled over. Sweeping the room with a quick glance to make sure no one had been stirred, Spot tried again. "Hey! Francis! Wake up, ya idiot!"

That got Jack's attention. "Who you callin' a idiot? And quit callin' me Francis!"

"Shuddup!" warned Spot, "Ya wanna wake the whole freakin' lodging house?"

As if suddenly realizing who he was speaking to, Jack sat up. "Spot, what the heck are ya doin' here? Ya get lost or somethin'?"

"Yeah, right, Jack. Dat's me alright. Infamous leader of the Brooklyn newsies…lost – HA! Now get yer butt outta bed an' come wit me. I need ta ask a favah."

oooo

Jack wasn't sure what Spot was there for, but he knew it had to be important. He never came to Manhattan without a reason. "So what's up, Spot?" he asked once they were in the hallway.

Spot sighed heavily, pulling his cap off and fingering it thoughtfully. "I got bad news tonight, Cowboy."

Jack's features became worried. "What do ya mean?"

Spot's serious eyes raised to meet Jack's. "Queens... dey backstabbed us, Jack."

Jack's eyes rounded. "What? Lynx joined up wit Wasp an' da gang?"

Spot nodded. "Yup."

Jack shook his head, realizing the gravity of the situation. Then he looked back at his friend. "Spot …" he paused, running a hand through his hair. "Ya helped me out a lot durin' da strike. I still owe ya fer dat. If ya want-"

Spot held up a hand. "No. I asked ya in da beginnin' an ya told me ya didn't wanna drag yer boys inta dis mess. I understood. It was a small mess den, Kelly. Now it's a big one, and I didn't come here ta ask ya again."

Jack sighed in relief. "Thanks, Spot."

"I do have a question, dough."

"Anythin'."

"Take my sistah."

Jack blinked. "What?"

"Take my sistah," Spot repeated.

"Song?"

Spot nodded. "It ain't safe in Brooklyn anymore. Wit me bein' leadah… she's a target. If da uddah side gets 'er… it's ovah fer me." He sighed. "Ya know I'd die before I'd let dem touch 'er. There's no tellin' what dey'd do if dey got 'er, an I can't chance dat." His eyes became distant. "I don't know what I'd do."

Jack nodded. "We'll take care of 'er, Spot."

Spot met Jack's eyes. "She ain't no picnic, Cowboy. Even I have a hard time controllin' dat goil."

Jack smiled slightly, despite the gravity of the situation. "Dat's cuz she's a Conlon, Spot. No one can control dose demons."

Spot smirked. "Yeah, yeah. So it's a deal?"

Jack spat in his hand and extended it. Spot followed in suit and they shook. "Deal."

0o0o0o0o0

**Regular POV**

I was tired. The dang couch was too comfy, and the room was too dark, but I refused to let myself fall asleep. I stood from where I was reclining and began to walk around the room, remembering it from when we had come a year earlier for the strike. It was chuck full then, and I hadn't been back since, so I really hadn't seen the place. I walked over to where there was a bar-like desk and noted a leather bound book sitting on it. Next to the book was a jar of change, likely where the boys put their lodging money. We had one like it, only, it wasn't left out on the counter. _Such trust, _I thought to myself. _Amazing, really. _I opened the book to find a list of names. My brow furrowed as I began to read them, not recognizing any of them.

_Mush Meyers_

_Kid Blink West_

_Skittery Redman_

_Boots McAleenan_

There! A name a knew! I smiled, recalling the sweet boy. He'd spent a night in Brooklyn once, and he'd been one of the boys to come and bravely ask us to join their strike. I smiled slightly. It would be nice to see him again…

_Jake Richards_

_Snoddy Geller_

_Snitch Adams_

_Specs Hanson_

_Jack Kelly_

I knew him, obviously. Who could forget a face like that?

_Racetrack Higgins_

I'd heard of him, but I couldn't quite remember the face that went with the name. Spot talked about him on a number of occasions throughout the strike. Lucky boy, this Racetrack. Spot actually seemed to like him.

_Crutchy Mottis_

Nice kid, but annoying. I obviously remembered him… the only boy with a crutch.

_Ten-Pin O'Neil_

_Bumlets Tho--_

"Song!" I jumped at my brother's sudden, angry voice, and slammed the book shut. I turned around, expecting to be receiving an annoyed glare, but instead found him with his back to me on the other side of the room. I rolled my eyes.

"Ovah here, genius," I called sarcastically.

He spun around, relief written on his face. It was quickly replaced by anger, however. "I told ya ta stay put!" he snapped.

"So sue me," I countered, making my way over to where he stood, making sure to keep my pace leisurely. I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to find Jack leaning against a wall, smiling as if he was quite amused. I allowed myself the pleasure of taking in the picture he made. _Oh, yeah… he ain't bad. He ain't bad at all._ Even with his hair all messed up from being slept on, he was handsome. "Hello, Jack," I said, smiling sweetly. "Did he talk ya inta lettin' me stay?"

Jack stood, making his way over to me. "Yes ma'am. An' let me tell ya," he added, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. "It's a pleasure."

I rolled my eyes before jerking my hand away. "Well, dat's nice, but I ain't happy 'bout dis." To think he thought he could sweet talk me into liking it here! Ha!

He began to laugh as I folded my arms, tilting my chin up in defiance. "You were right, Spot. She's gonna be a handful." He winked at me. "I think I kin handle 'er."

My jaw dropped in amazement, but I quickly snapped it shut, narrowing my eyes at him. "We'll see about that, Mr. Kelly."

He flashed me another killer smile. "I guess we will."

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**A/N: **Well… that's all folks! I hope you enjoyed it! I know that Spot and Song's conversation about Queens was a little confusing. I purposefully didn't expand because I am going to reveal all that later… tee-hee. Let me know what you think! 


	3. The Docks

Heya guys! I'm back from the grave! Thanks to all those who reviewed way back when… Just an FYI, in case you didn't read the summary, I've changed a lot of stuff. The first two chapters are basically the same (save for a few minor grammatical and age differences) but from this chapter on, the story is going to change from what it originally was. Sorry to all those unfortunate people who read my original piece of crap. Trust me; this is going to be MUCH better… Okay… enjoy!

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I woke up before the sun the next morning, despite how late I had fallen asleep. Groaning, I rolled off the bunk and dragged myself to the washroom, passing the forms of the many sleeping Manhattaners. "Lazy bums," I mumbled to myself. In Brooklyn, everyone was either getting up at this time or already up. We couldn't afford to be fat and lazy in a place like Brooklyn.

After washing my face and throwing my hair up in a ponytail, I donned my newsie cap and set off for Brooklyn. For the past ten years I'd had my morning routine, and no stupid borough war was going to throw it off. Once out of the bunkhouse, I began to jog toward Brooklyn.

Almost an hour later I arrived at the docks. I was drenched in sweat and panting like a dog, but I had made it. Smiling smugly, I kicked off my shoes, preparing to jump into the water.

0o0o0o0

Jack Kelly groaned as Kloppman's voice invaded his sleep. Lifting his head, he blinked his bleary eyes a few times, wondering why it felt like he'd had so little sleep. Had he been out late with Sarah the night before? Then, suddenly, it came back to him. Spot had come last night asking if he'd take Song for a while…

He allowed his eyes to travel to the bunk he'd led her to last night, fully expecting her sleeping form to be there. He sat bolt upright when he realized the bed was empty save for a few rumpled sheets and a thin pillow. "Dammit," he cursed softly. "Song?" he asked aloud to the room.

"Say what, Cowboy?" Racetrack's voice questioned from a few bunks away.

"Song… Anyone seen 'er?"

"Song… _Conlon_?" This time it was Boots who did the questioning.

"Uh-oh, fellas… bettah not tell David dat Jack's been dreamin' 'bout some otha broad. It just might get back ta Sarah." Racetrack teased.

Jack didn't respond, however. He was merely trying to figure out if it really had all been a dream. Finally convincing himself that, no, Spot really had brought Song in last night, he shook his head. "No, guys. Spot brought 'er in last night. He said something 'bout the war startin' and her needin' a safe place ta stay."

"The war started?" Skittery repeated skeptically.

"What?" Kid asked, eyes wide.

"When?" Mush chimed in.

"Apparently last night," Jack answered. "But dat's not da problem right now. I need ta know where Song is."

"She ain't here, Cowboy," Specs assured him. "I would 'ave noticed. A guy don't just go overlookin' a goil like her."

A few other boys whistled and murmured their agreement. Jack had to admit, Song was an attractive girl.

_Crap! _He thought. _Spot's gonna kill me… _"Well, guys. Start searchin'. We need ta find 'er… before Spot does."

0o0o0o0

"What the 'ell do you think yer doin' 'ere?" a cold voice demanded from behind me. Jumping slightly, I turned. How I had missed the fact that my brother was sitting on top of his usual pile of crates was beyond me.

"I'm here for my training… just like always." I said in response to his question.

"I told ya ta stay in Manhattan."

"So?"

He hopped down from the crates and I stepped back. That was probably a really dumb thing of me to say to him. Especially this early in the day. He wasn't exactly the friendliest person in general… never mind in the morning. "So I expect ya ta do as I say," he countered calmly.

I hated how he could do that. Sometimes I wish he'd just get angry instead of bottling it all up inside and staying so calm. Last night's fiasco had been a welcome, if not happy, change. Realizing he wasn't about to push me unexpectedly into the water for being smart with him, I smirked. "You shoulda stopped expectin' dat yeahs ago, Spotty."

His cold gaze glared at me from beneath his gray cap. "Right." His eyes left me to look a few feet away. "How'd she do, Scout?" My eyes widened as the addressed person stepped forward. I hadn't even noticed her there. Man, I've got to work on my alertness…

"Too long," she said simply. I gritted my teeth at her smug tone. She looked straight at me. "You should have been able ta get here fastah."

It was then that I realized they'd been waiting for me. I hadn't surprised Spot after all! Beyond angry, I glared at Scout. "You don't even know when I got up!"

"Oh, come off it, Song," she countered, "You've been gettin' up at da same time for nine years!"

"Ten years," I corrected shortly

"Point taken."

I turned back to Spot, anger sparking. "You've been spendin' a lotta time wit 'er," I accused under my breath. His gaze hardened.

"So?"

"So… she yer girl or somethin?" I didn't miss the fire that ignited in his eyes.

"No."

"Could 'a fooled me," I mumbled. I got a little nervous at how quickly his eyes hardened.

"Don't push me, Song," he growled, and I consented to changing the topic.

"How long did I take?"

His gaze remained on me a moment longer, as if he wasn't completely sure I'd dropped the subject, but he took a few steps toward Scout. She put the watch in his waiting hand, and he glanced at it, grumbling under his breath as he mentally counted the minutes. Finally he looked back up at me. "Too long."

"How long?" I insisted.

"Quit wastin' time," Spot admonished. "We'll let ya know when you've gotten 'ere in time." He began to roll up his sleeves. "Since you're here we'll go through as usual, but we don't have any time ta goof around. Got it?"

"Fine." As soon as the word was out of my mouth, Spot threw me a punch. I barely blocked it in time, but I did block it. I smirked slightly. "You'll have ta do bettah den dat, Spot!" I teased, an edge to my words. He eyed me carefully before surprising me with a swift kick to my shins. It didn't hurt too badly, but it was rougher than I was used to from him. My eyes immediately narrowed and I swung at him, only to be intercepted before I was even close to hitting him. He twisted my arm back, spinning me around and causing me to end up with my arm hopelessly trapped between my back and his chest.

"Yer slow taday, Song," he muttered in my ear before pushing me forward and releasing my arm. I rubbed my wrist, anger simmering. This time I waited for him to make a move. His eyes sparkled, but his facial features didn't even twitch. "Now you're getting it. I've told you this before. Ya gotta wait for the opponent to make a move. Never start something unless ya know you'll catch them by surprise."

An hour later, we both glistened with sweat. My face, I'm sure, was beet red. His was a light pink. "Whaddaya think, Spot?" I heard Scout ask from behind me. I watched him shake his head.

"She ain't good enough. I'm not sayin' I went easy on 'er, but I didn't give me all eider..."

"What are you talkin' about; I'm 'not good enough'?" I exploded. "Well, you should have taught me ta be 'good enough' by now, Conlon! You've had ten flippin' years ta teach me! So figure out how ta make me 'good enough', cuz I ain't goin' back ta Manhattan!"

If I had been in any sort of stable condition, I would have been a little nervous at how dark his eyes got at that moment. He took three swift steps, closing the distance between us, and grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me to within mere inches of his face. "Shut up, Song," he hissed, his tone dark. "I won't tolerate this."

In that moment, I was sure I'd never been so angry. "Who da 'ell do you think you are?" I screamed. "I'm fifteen! I can make my own decisions!" Determined to get free of his grasp, I spat in his face, shoved his chest as hard as I could, and kneed him. His grasp loosened as he grunted, and I slipped free. I smirked at his bent over frame. There's no _way_ that didn't hurt. I felt a slight twinge of guilt at his small gasps of pain, but quickly pushed them aside. The jerk deserved it.

"Dammit, Song!" Scout exclaimed angrily. "'ey, Spot, you okay?" she questioned, worry marring her features.

Spot straightened slowly, and I swear, I've never seen him so angry. "Where the hell is Kelly?" he exploded. "I want him here in ten minutes or somebody's gonna get hurt!"

Scout blanched and immediately took off. I did nothing but stare. When he started toward me, I couldn't help feeling a twinge of satisfaction along with my guilt at the slight limp in his movements. I also couldn't move. I merely stared, waiting for whatever he was going to do to me.

"I don't care if I have ta find one a dem 'Hattan boys to freakin' baby sit you, Quinlyn, you're goin' back and yer gonna stay dere," he spat at me, sticking his cane in my face to emphasize his point. "An' don't think they won't, either. All a dem owe me big time for savin' their sorry asses back in da strike."

I shoved his cane away from my face. "No, they owe _Brooklyn _something." I could have kicked myself for saying that. _Bad timing, Song…_

His eyes flashed. "Honey, I _am_ Brooklyn."

"Song!" Both of us turned at the sudden exclamation. I immediately smiled upon realizing from whom it came.

"Shadow!" I ran over to the boy who was waiting... my closest friend. Seeing as it was still moring, he was lacking the usual smudges of dirt and ash that usually adorned his face and clothing and contributed to his name. Shadow worked at one of the factories near the lodging house. Unlike Manhattan, the Brooklyn lodging house was home to more than just newsies. The majority of us were newsies, but we also housed dock workers, factory workers, and the like. All answered to Spot, naturally.

I stopped in front of him and allowed his dark gaze to study me for a moment. A displeased look marred his handsome features as he shook his head. "Nope. Manhattan's been no good for you, Song. Convinced Spot ta let ya stay yet?"

"No," came Spot's cold reply.

Shadow turned, nodding in acknowledgement to Spot's presence. He may have been on my side, but Spot was still his superior. "When's she goin' back?"

"Never!" I shouted defiantly. Shadow chuckled.

"Looks like neither one of yous done any convincing."

"Well… she don't got a choice."

Shadow's dark eyes saddened as he turned to me. "He's doin' what's best for ya, Song. Ya know dat, right?"

My brow creased in confusion. "You agree with him?" Slowly, Shadow nodded. "What?! How could you?"

"Spot's never led the people he cares about astray before, Song. You know he's just lookin' out for you."

"But… but I can fight just as good as any Brooklyn boy! I want to fight!"

Shadow nodded, a sad smile on his face. "I know, Song. But you're more of a target than any Brooklyn boy too."

"Exactly," Spot affirmed. I had nothing to say to that. They were right, I realized. I just hadn't thought about it that way before.

Seeing my troubled expression, Shadow gave me a smile. "No need ta worry about dat in Manhattan, dough. They'll take care a ya. After all… they owe us." I shot Spot a triumphant look at Shadow's use of "us", but he wasn't paying attention. He was gazing out over the water lapping the docks, a distant look in his eyes. I wondered what he was thinking about…

"You listenin' ta me, Song?" Shadow's voice cut into my thoughts.

"Huh?"

He smiled, his eyes laughing under the dark brown hair falling into them. "I didn't think so. I asked you ta tell me how ya got da best a ol' Spot. Scout's never looked so pale. She thought for sure one of you's would be dead by da time I got 'ere."

I smirked. "Well… ya see, I was tellin' 'im dat dere was no way in heck dat he'd get me ta stay in Manhattan. He didn't like dat too much. He got dat angry look on 'is face-" I scrunched up my face into an angry expression and then relaxed. "Ya know… when 'e looks like a cow tryin' ta give boith and it's s'posed ta be intimidatin' or somethin'?" Shadow raised an eyebrow skeptically as if he didn't quite believe my whole story, but he didn't stop me. "An' den 'e grabs me shoit and tells me dat 'e won't tolerate da way I was speakin' ta 'im." I rolled my eyes at the memory. "Den I told 'im dat I was sixteen and could make me own decisions if I wanted ta." Shadow's eyes widened slightly at that, and I smirked with self-pride. Nobody but me would dare say something like that to Spot. Come to think of it, it was pretty stupid of me to do so. Looking back, I'm pretty sure he would have beat the crap out of me had I not been his sister. Shrugging, I continued my story. "Anyways, I was sick a havin' 'is ugly mug in me face, so I gave 'im a shove and kicked 'im where it hoits, if ya get me drift, an' he obliged ta lettin' me go." I nodded, satisfied with my rendition of the tale. "Aftah dat, you came."

"An' it went jist like dat, I'm shoah."

I heard a soft snort from behind me. "In her mind it did, anyway."

Shadow smiled at me fondly. "Well, we know dat our little Song likes ta spice 'er stories up."

"I do not! Dat's how it happened!"

"Of course it is, Song," they replied in unison. Shadow ruffled my hair, causing a very irritated look to be shot at him, and Spot smirked at me, his eyes sparkling. Although I wasn't too happy they didn't believe my very true (if not enhanced just a little bit) story; I was very happy that Spot was over his minor mood swing. I crossed my arms, allowing a reluctant smile.

"Yeah, yeah. I know you twos don't believe me."

"Actually," Spot said, surprising me, "She didn't do too bad. At least I know she kin hold 'er own if da situation's desperate." He sent me a glare at my satisfied smile. "But I swear, Song, if ya evah try dat on me again, I'll soak ya so hard-"

"Yeah, shoah ya will, Spot." At the incredulous look he received, Shadow laughed. "When have you evah touched a goil wit ill intent?"

"He's got a point, Spot," I agreed.

"I have no problem wit you bein' da foist, Song," he replied evenly. Then he turned to Shadow. "Take 'er back foah me, will ya?"

Shadow's eyes saddened. "Shoah." He turned to me, touching my shoulder gently. "C'mon, Song. Manhattan awaits your presence."

I turned to Spot, slightly angry and betrayed that he wasn't taking me himself. After all… he was my brother. Why should he make someone else take his responsibility? "Ya busy or somethin', Spot?"

"Somethin' like dat."

His emotionless answer hurt me more than I'd like to admit. "Go rot!"

"Love ya too, Song."

I paused; surprised to hear such words leave my brother's mouth, even if they were spoken sarcastically. Unexpected tears sprang to my eyes, and I realized that this could be one of the last times I'd see him. Not caring if it ruined his reputation, I ran the few feet that separated us and threw my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder and breathing in the scent that was purely my brother. If I never saw him again… I wanted to be able to remember everything about him. We hadn't always gotten along, but what type of siblings would we be if we had? He'd saved me countless times, I now realized. I didn't know what it was like to go a day without seeing him. "I'll miss you," I whispered, not sure if he'd even hear me. I froze as his arms slowly wrapped around me.

"Yeah… me too."

I pulled back, staring into the eyes that were mirrors of my own. "Visit me sometime?"

He smirked; a trademark that I had taken for granted. "If I can." He tapped the brim of my cap, causing it to fall over my eyes. "See ya 'round, sis."

"Yeah… see ya." Reluctantly, I rejoined Shadow and we slowly began our trek to Manhattan.

"You'll se 'im again, Song. It ain't good-bye for long."

"Sure it isn't." I could hear the doubt in my own voice. I glanced back over my shoulder to see Spot watching us go, his hands in his pockets, head held high. The picture of leadership. He raised his chin, a greeting I'd seen him use several times. However, his casual stance belied the concern and stress I saw in his eyes. I blinked angrily at the tears that pricked my eyes. _Why am I so emotional? Shadow's right… I'll see him again. I will, dang it! He's Brooklyn. __**We're**__ Brooklyn. And Brooklyn doesn't fail… it can't. _

With that thought in my head, I forced a smile onto my face. "So… what are the odds of you carrying me ta 'Hattan?" I asked Shadow.

He chuckled. "No chance, my dear."

"Spot carried me," I challenged.

"Do I look like Spot to you?"


	4. Emotions

"Sheesh, Cowboy, you look horrible," I said as I turned down Duane Street. Jack was pacing, his face contorted into a mixture of stress and apprehension. His head snapped up at my voice, and his eyes widened as he saw me.

"Song? Oh, thank God." As he walked toward me, his face changed from relief to anger. "Where the heck have you been?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Brooklyn."

"What?!"

I breezed past him. "Don't look so surprised, Jacky Boy."

"Does Spot know you were there?"

I smirked. "I'm pretty sure about dat one."

"Is he mad?"

I snorted at the stupid question. "What do you think?"

I heard him sigh as he began to follow me. "What'd 'e do? Did you talk ta 'im, or did 'e just see you? How mad is 'e?" He waited a moment before speaking again in my silence. "Song!"

"What?" I answered irritably.

"Answer me!"

I turned around, almost causing him to run into me. "Which question would you like answered, Cowboy? Don't expect me to remember everything you just asked."

Jack gave me an irritated glare. "How mad is he?"

I shrugged. "Hard ta tell wit me bruddah, ya know? But I'd say you's in luck. I gave him more than enough to be ticked off at me about, so I wouldn't worry too much about yer own hide." I flashed him a sarcastic smile. "Will that be all, Pumpkin?"

He looked down at me, clearly not pleased. "You _are_ bad."

"Who told ya that, Jacky Boy?" I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

"Your brother."

"Psh. Shows what he knows." I walked a few steps before looking back over my shoulder at him. "Now, don't be rude, darling," I prompted. "Say 'hi' ta Shadow."

Jack looked around us. "Shadow?"

I smiled. Shadow didn't have his nickname for nothing. My practiced eye could make him out in a dim alleyway a few feet back, but Jack wouldn't have been able to spot him for three shining quarters. "Shadow, quit hiding." He didn't move. "It's immature," I added.

"I'm not hiding!" he shot back at me, indignantly stepping out of the alleyway. "I'm lingering strategically."

"Uh-huh." I looked at Jack who was eyeing Shadow with something akin to mistrust. One look at Shadow found him doing the same. Shadow had been one of the Brooklyn newsies who were wary about re-joining the strike after Jack bailed on us. I knew he still harbored some resentment and suspicion toward Jack because of that. The only reason he trusted him at all was because Spot said he could be trusted. I figured Jack didn't like Shadow because he had picked up on the fact that Shadow didn't exactly love him. I wasn't sure he knew about the long day of arguing we had going on back during the strike.

"Shadow," Jack finally acknowledged, extending his hand.

"Kelly," Shadow returned, grasping the proffered hand. "How's it rollin?"

Jack smiled. "Can't complain. Headlines haven't been too bad. I've had dinner a few nights this week. And now Song's back, so I can breathe again."

Shadow gave me a wry grin. "She likes to keep us on our toes back in Brooklyn."

"I can see that. How's everythin' goin' there?"

"Ugh," I complained. "Cut it out!"

"Cut what out?" Jack asked.

"Song hates small talk," Shadow answered for me.

"Pretty much," I agreed, turning to face Jack. "Don't you bummers actually sell in Manhattan?"

Jack smirked. "'Course we do. I thought it was you Brooklynites who never sold a paper. Every time I drop by you's all lazin' about on da docks."

"Ya don't make money lazin' around, Cowboy," I informed him. "Ya wanna sell here taday, Shadow?"

"I don't sell at all, Song," he reminded me.

"I know, but you's late foah your real job. Why not take a day off an' have some fun?"

"Dat's not how it works, my dear." He gave me a fond smile. "Welcome to da real world."

"No thanks! I like my world bettah."

Shadow chuckled. It was the kind of chuckle that made shivers run along your spine from the pure delicious lowness of it. It made his eyes glitter, making him look wild and dangerous. "So do I," he said. Then, to my utter astonishment, he bent down and kissed me. Time froze along with my pulse, and then came rushing back double time. I felt like I was spinning, and then he pulled away, brushing my cheek with his fingers.

"Bye, Song," his voice rumbled in my ear. Before I could say anything or even react, he was gone; once again part of the shadows.

I stood motionless, fingers against my lips in frozen shock. Had he just kissed me?

"I didn't know you two were together," Jack's voice cut into my thoughts.

I turned to him. "We're not… I don't think."

A slow, amazingly infuriating all-knowing male smile worked its way onto Jack's face. "Ah… I see."

I narrowed my eyes. "You see what?" But Jack just turned and walked away, whistling a merry tune as he went. Rolling my eyes, I followed after him. "You see what?!"

0o0o0o0o0

I kicked a rock on my way back to the lodging house. I had barely sold any papers, and it was beginning to get dark. I hadn't had lunch, as I hadn't had the money to buy anything, and it seemed unlikely that I would have dinner. I looked down at the fifteen pennies I held in my hand. I figured most of them would be going to Kloppman so that I could spend the night on a bunk instead of over a steam grate. I still hadn't figured out what was going on between Shadow and me. Was it a good-bye kiss? A friendship kiss? An I-may-never-see-you-again kiss? Or was it more than that? "Aargh!" I voiced my frustration to the empty streets, clenching my fingers around the stack of papers I still held.

"Frustrated, doll face?" I spun, recognizing the voice but not knowing who it was. I was met with the sight of two boys, both wearing sinister grins.

_How did I miss them? They were practically breathing down my neck! _"What do you want?" My free hand clenched at my side. I vaguely recognized the one on the left to be the same boy that attacked Spot and I the night before. I didn't like the feeling this gave me.

"We have orders, _Conlon_."

I backed up a few feet. "What's that s'posed ta mean?" I challenged, sounding braver than I felt. Hey… just cuz I'm from Brooklyn doesn't mean I'm fearless.

"You'll see," was all they said before grabbing me by the arms and dragging me down the street.

"Lemme go!" I screamed, kicking and squirming in their grasp, but they just tightened their hold. I was no match against the two of them. "Lemme go!" I screamed again, hoping that someone would hear me.

"Yes," a familiar deep voice said from the dark alleyway looming before us. "By all means… let the girl go."

I gasped as I saw who was waiting in the alleyway. Then my eyes narrowed and I spat on the ground in front of them. The taller figure looked down at it for a moment and then turned his attention to the boys holding my arms. "Let 'er go and then get lost." My arms were immediately released and the two boys backed out of the alleyway reluctantly, leaving me alone with the last two people on earth I would have chosen.

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Duh duh duh duuuuunnnnn!!!! lol Thanks for reading, guys. And thanks for all my wonderful reviews! Shout outs and hugs to all! 

_Zurmdragon:_ (blushes) Thanks! I'm really glad you're enjoying this so far. :)

_NarniaRulz: _Thank you, too! I'm glad you find it amusing. I'm working hard at keeping this story light and humorous, as opposed to my other story which my friend makes fun of me sometimes for being too soap opera-ish. lol Thank you for the compliments, and I hope you continue to enjoy!

_Matisse: _Ah, my lovely friend! How kind of you to drop me a review! And the fact that you spent half your "novel" rambling doesn't exactly make it a novel. ;) And, yes, we've talked about the lovely and incredibly handsome Shadow before in comparison to the adored Muck, and I agree wholeheartedly. They both have their attributes that make them attractive in their own ways. :) Hope you continue to enjoy how he's written! (not that I have any doubt you won't tell me if you don't...)

_Quirky Del: _Yay! Another review from you! Glad to see you're still enjoying this! Thank you for your lovely reviews and for your response to my 'almost-book' that I wrote in response to your last chapter. lol That was a majorly long review, but I'm glad that it made you happy! Speaking of... when are you going to update your story? I'm totally in love with it, and I need my Spot and Anne fix! Now! lol Plz,plz,plz update soon:)


	5. Enemies

**A/N**: I'm sorry I haven't posted in such a long time. I had to really focus on Hard Beginnings so that I could finish it. Now I get to focus more on this one:o) FYI for all those wondering: Hard Beginnings epilogue should be up soon and I'm seriously considering a sequel. Anyways… enjoy this chapter!

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"Traitors," I hissed.

"Missed you too, Babe," the object of my rage spoke, caressing my face with rough fingers. I jerked my head away, glaring at him angrily.

"Ooo… feisty, is she?" the other questioned. I turned my attention to the girl who'd spoken.

"You," I spat.

"Me," she replied with a sick smile. "Nice to see you, dear."

"Sorry I can't say the same."

"We used to be friends, Song," she cooed at me. "What happened?"

"You turned into a bitch," I growled.

She raised a perfect eyebrow. "Ouch."

A low chuckle turned my attention back on the boy.

"What are you doing here, Lynx?" I accused.

"Checking up on my favorite girl," he replied smoothly.

"I can't believe your doing this to me."

"Doing what? I have nothing against you, doll. I just have a little problem with your brother and his ego."

"So you decided to stab him in the back?"

He widened his eyes in mock surprise. "How did you know our evil little plan?"

"Shut up," I hissed through clenched teeth.

"Aw, how cute. Songie's protective of her Spotty."

I glared at the girl again. I'd always hated her. Not necessarily because she was mean, per say. No, I was much more shallow than that. I hated her because she was the epitome of perfect. Perfect exotic complexion, perfect lilting voice, perfect dark hair, perfect eyebrows, perfect full lips… Frankly, she disgusted me.

"You're lucky I don't come over there and break your perfect little nose, Wasp," I growled.

"Temper, temper," she chided. "Just like her brother."

"I'm _not_ just like him," I opposed.

"Small talk bores me. I know you don't like it either, Song. Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Lynx interrupted our small argument.

"Fine," I agreed, still glaring at Wasp.

"Fine," she echoed, glaring back.

"Great. Now… Wasp and I are here to get some information."

I raised my eyebrows. "And you think I'm gonna spill info about Jacky-boy, huh?" I laughed. "Think again."

"I don't want to hurt you, Song."

I met his eyes. "You can't touch me anymore."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…" Wasp mumbled under her breath.

"Baby…" Lynx cooed, stepping toward me. I turned my glare on him. "Honey, I never wanted to do this to you or him. I just felt… controlled. I know you know what I mean. He tries to control you too. Me and you… we're the same. We need our freedom. We need air to breathe. We make our own decisions."

"You could have talked to him."

He gave me a disbelieving look. "Sweetie, Conlon don't listen to nobody, an' you know it."

I looked away. "Wouldn't have hurt to try. He trusted you. I trusted you."

"That's what this is really about, isn't it?" He questioned softly. "Song… I never meant to hurt you. I care about you. You know that." I reluctantly met his eyes. They were full of compassion. "You believe me, don't you?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

He touched my cheek again, and this time I didn't pull away. "Song… I'm sorry. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"Why do we even have to have a stupid war?" I wondered aloud. "It never solves anything. People just get hurt."

Lynx tensed, and it was then that I knew he was playing me. I stared at him in disbelief, stepping away once again. "You make me sick," I spat at him, tears pricking my eyes. "You don't care about me!"

"Song…"

I narrowed my eyes. "You want Brooklyn, don't you?"

"Who doesn't, sweetheart?" Wasp broke in. "Nicest borough in New York."

I lifted my chin proudly. "Damn straight, it is."

"Too bad we're going to have to destroy it in order to gain it," Lynx said, false sadness in his tone.

I snorted. "Keep dreamin'."

"What? You don't think we can beat you?"

"Even if you outnumber us, I promise you we'll push you back into the holes you crawled from. You're not going to take us down."

"Oh, we outnumber you alright," Lynx laughed coldly. "Especially since we've got half of Brooklyn on our side as well."

"You're a liar," I accused, all emotion gone from my voice in denial. He just shrugged calmly.

"Not everyone can put up with Conlon's oppressive rule for as long as you, Song. Wasp and I have talked to a lot of them personally." He took in my expression of disbelief. A wicked smile crawled onto his face. "The dockers don't like 'im either. Who's that one, Wasp? Tall, dark hair, strong...?"

Wasp grinned. "Shadow, wasn't it?"

I felt the blood drain from my face as my heart rejected the information. "No! He wouldn't!"

Lynx gave me a pitying smile. "I'm sorry, princess. Shook hands with me not three days ago."

I bit back tears. "I don't believe you."

He shrugged, as if he could care less whether I did or not. "Just thought you might like to know. Ya know… warn your brother and everything. He's gonna need all the help he can get."

"My. Brother. Will. Kill. You." My betrayed feelings had turned to flaming anger that I directed completely toward the person I blamed for everything going wrong with my life.

He gave me an eerily calm smile. "He can try."

My stomach dropped as his eyes glinted dangerously and his eerie smile became a wicked sneer.

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Shout outs to my very awesome reviewers!

**Just da Girl**: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Anything specific you'd like to see happen?

**NarniaRulz**: First of all… I luv your penname. I don't know if I ever told you that. Second of all… thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and continue to enjoy the story! Any suggestions on how to make it better?

**Matisse**: Hopefully some more Jack in the next chapter. Not my favorite character to write, but he's growing on me. Plus he's hott… pauses to daydream Anyways… Yes, the incredibly attractive Lynx is back. Of course, I didn't really highlight how hott he was in this chapter. I just focused on making him amazingly evil… but you never know what may pop up in later chapters… :o)

**HIC**: Thank you for emailing me and getting me going on this again! I forgot about it for a little while, and I'm really glad you reminded me that people actually like my stuff. lol Thank you for your compliments! I'm all conceited now… :o)


	6. Tension

**A/N**: Hey, guys! Thanks for all the reviews on my last chapter! I don't think it's been too long since I last posted, but I'll apologize for the wait anyway. Hope you enjoy this chapter, don't forget to drop me a review with your comments… good or bad! Suggestions are great too! Well... enjoy!

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"Dere she is, Cowboy." 

I looked up at the voice to find Jack and Race sitting on the steps leading up to the lodging house. Race was pointing at me, and Jack was squinting into the falling night. Relief poured over his features when he saw me.

"Well, gee, guys," I said sarcastically, "You didn't have ta wait up."

"Jack couldn't sleep wit'out cha, toots," Race replied dryly.

"Shuddup, Race," Jack mumbled before turning his attention back to me. "Where were you? I almost had to go out dere ta find you!"

"Psh, yeah right," I said as I passed them on my way up the steps.

"Hey, answer my question!" Jack exclaimed, obviously irritated that I was ignoring him. "Where were you?"

"I don't have ta tell you anythin, Jacky-boy," I reminded him. "You ain't my leadah."

"Yeah, your right, Song." At his answer I turned around and met his eyes. They were serious as they locked on mine. "Dat would be your bruddah. An' he told me ta keep an eye on you, so it's my job ta know where you are. If you don't tell me, I'll give you a babysitter."

My jaw dropped open, but I quickly clamped it shut, sending him an icy glare. "I don't need a babysitter, Kelly."

"I didn't think so," he replied coolly. "Where were ya."

"Out," I threw over my shoulder as I pulled open the door and stepped inside.

"Conlons," I heard Race mutter with contempt before the door shut behind me, and I couldn't keep from smirking. My happiness was short-lived however, as I remembered my earlier conversation. Lynx and Wasp had let me go, though why I didn't know. They could have easily used me against my brother. The only reason I could think of was that maybe Lynx still cared about me, but that was ridiculous.

"Song," a soft voice from behind me pulled me from my thoughts. "What happened out dere?"

It was then I realized I had stopped walking all together. I shrugged, trying to keep the tears from filling my eyes. "Nothin. I'se jist tired."

"Tough time sellin?" a harsher voice questioned.

"No," I snapped.

"Betchya that was it, Cowboy. Bet she couldn't sell outside a Brooklyn."

"Shut up, Midget," I snarled. "Brooklynites can sell anywhere they freakin' want!"

"Defensive, defensive," he scolded, but his eyes glared at me, and I knew I had hit my mark with my reference to his height.

In truth, it had taken me a lot longer to sell my papers here in Manhattan than back home, but I wasn't about to tell Racetrack that. In my defense, however, that wasn't the reason I was late… that was Lynx's fault.

"Leave 'er be, Race," Jack said quietly.

"Leave _her_ be? How 'bout she lets _me _be? We're lettin' 'er stay here, and she gives us no respect!"

"Newsflash for you, Shorty," I snarled. "I don't wanna be here."

"Knock it off, Mick," he snapped back.

"Race!" Jack exclaimed. I just stared in shock; not quite believing he'd called me that. Race headed up the stairs, a smug expression on his face.

"I hate him," I seethed as I watched his back disappear around the corner.

"Don't take 'im seriously, Song. He don't have a serious bone in 'is body."

"I don't care!" I countered. "That was uncalled for."

"I agree," Jack admitted. "And I'm sorry. He lived on angering your brother when he was here too."

"I can bet you it wasn't like dat," I said. "And, while we're on the topic, I _ain't_ me bruddah."

"I know dat, Song." He flashed me a smile that I was certain melted some girls hearts upon sight. "You're so much prettier."

I gave him a look. "Nice try, Kelly."

He laughed. "Well, at least I get credit for trying, huh? C'mon… it's late and we have ta sell in da mornin'."

"We have ta sell every mornin'," I grumbled under my breath.

He chuckled, and for a moment I could see why women found him irresistible.

0o0o0o0

"Up an' at 'em, Songie," a voice sing-songed next to me the following morning. I opened my eyes to find Racetrack hovering above my face.

"Get yer ugly mug outta me breathin' space, Racetrack," I growled. He rolled his eyes, but he moved. I swung my legs over the side of the bunk and stood, shoving past Race on my way to the washroom.

Ten minutes later, I was waiting in line for my papers. I was calculating about how long I thought it would take me to sell my papers when I heard an excited shout. I looked up to find Jack running from his front spot in line, a stupid grin on his face.

"Look, it's Davey!" another voice shouted, and all the newsies began to titter excitedly. I looked back at Jack to find him embracing a boy around his height with a head of curly dark brown hair. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place my finger on where I had seen him before.

"Who is that?" I asked the girl standing a few feet away from me.

"David Jacobs, Jack's best friend and brother of Jack's girlfriend," she answered.

"Huh." I was still trying to figure out how that would make him seem familiar to me.

"He's cute, isn't 'e?" she asked, a knowing grin on her face.

I shrugged. "'e's alright."

She giggled. "I think he's adorable. And he's awful smaht, too. Knows just about everythin', and 'e has dese gorgeous blue eyes…"

"Oh, he's a babe," I sarcastically cut her off.

She rolled her eyes. "You asked."

"I asked for a definition, not a description," I replied before leaving my spot in line to check the boy out for myself.

"Song," Jack greeted when he saw me coming over. "Come meet my pal, Davey!" I walked up to them and crossed my arms. "Song, this is David Jacobs. Davey, this is Song Conlon."

David had been about to spit in his hand, but upon hearing my name, he paused. "Conlon?" he practically squeaked. "As in… Spot Conlon?"

"As in _Song _Conlon," I said rudely. "I'm my own person, thank you very much."

"She's Spot's little sister," Jack supplied. By this point David had recovered. He extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Song."

I stared at his hand. "What, you can't spit shake?"

He took back his hand. "Well… I just thought that… I mean, you're a-"

"Don't hoit yerself," I said sarcastically. "I ain't no lady." I spit into my hand. "It's nice ta meet you officially too. Me bruddah might 'ave mentioned you a couple times. Da Walkin' Mouth, wasn't it?"

He spit into his palm and shook my hand. "You are a Brookie, alright. You guys are the only ones who honestly call me that and mean it."

I shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Okay, so it was nice meetin' ya an' everythin', but I actually have woik ta do."

"Yeah. Song's havin' a tough time sellin' ovah here in Manhattan," a voice spoke from behind me. "You just kept her from gettin' the head start she was plannin' on, Davey."

I narrowed my eyes and spun. "Shut it, Race," I snarled. "I kin sell just fine."

"O' course ya can, goil!" he said, his voice overly cheerful. "Have fun, kiddo." With a wink, he was gone.

"I'm gonna kill him!" I seethed.

"Cool off, Song. He's just teasing you," Jack rationalized.

"Yeah… maybe he likes you," David offered brightly. I made a gagging sound. "Or not," he quickly amended.

"I dunno, Davey, you might be on ta somethin'."

I walked away then, ignoring Jack's calls for me to come back and that he didn't mean it. I walked straight out the gates and onto the place I had sold the day before. By the end of the day, I wasn't angry anymore.

I was lonely.

* * *

**Acorn: **Cute name, I like it! Thanks for the correction… my computer doesn't catch stuff like that, obviously. lol It's nice to see that we are still beasting the machines in intelligence… sometimes it scares me when my computer knows more than I do… :) What'd you think of this chapter? 

**Swindler: **Thanks! I'm really glad you're enjoying it! does an excited dance I get so happy when people put me in the favorites!

**Matisse: **Ah, Charlie, my good friend! I didn't send you this ahead of time cuz I just wanted to post it… so… is it okay? Was the update sooner? See you on Sat… if I remember to get you your tickets tomorrow… oops! lol

**NarniaRulz: **Thanks for the encouragement! I hope you're still enjoying… any advice or feedback whenever you have some is much appreciated!

**Kutestar94: **Thanks. Short, sweet, and to the point… reviews like that make me smile. Thanks again!


	7. Surprise

**Disclaimer-** I just remembered that I haven't written one of these in a while. No, I don't own 'em. Wish I did, cause they're so terribly adorable… but I don't have that much money yet…

**Shout outs and Review Plea-**

Thanks to all who read the last chapter and to all who reviewed especially! You guys brighten my day! If you're reading this chapter, it'd be awesome if you could drop me a review and let me know how I'm doing. Good or bad, I love to hear from you guys. Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**NarniaRulz: **(blushes) Thank you! I've been trying really hard to create a strong personality for Song so that she doesn't become some lame Mary Sue. You encouragement has been so awesome!

**FeeldaForce: **Sorry that none of your questions really got answered in this chapter. But don't worry, they will be! Also, sorry about the time it took for me to update. I've had a lot of papers due at school, so I haven't had much time to pleasure write. But today was a SNOW DAY! (dances for joy) So I got to write a new chapter. Yay! lol

**MushM12: **What did you think? Was this a good "more"? Any writing suggestions?

**Mage Ren: **I'm so glad you are pleased with my accents! lol I had some really rough ones starting out, but, luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it) I got it all out in Hard Beginnings. And thanks for your Song comment. I'm so glad she pleases you as well!

**Ktkakes: **Yes, poor Song. Race is such a pain, but yes… she is so very alone. Except for now… cuz Spot's come to visit… But never fear! Brooklyn won't always be there! (wow… corny, I know) lol And, yes, she should remind you of her brother, as that is what I'm trying to do. I'm glad it has been accomplished. It just makes me smile at how much she doesn't want to be her brother, and yet she is… Okay, I'm done ranting. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

* * *

Two weeks later, nothing had changed. Racetrack was still being a constant nuisance, I was still learning to sell in a different part of New York, Jack was still trying to make me feel as though I belonged, and I was still as lonely as ever. I missed Brooklyn, but, more than that, I missed the people in it. I missed my best friend, Shadow. I missed listening to the sounds of the water lapping on the docks as the boys around me brawled playfully. But more than all of that, I found myself missing my brother. 

"Epidemic strikes the Bronx," I called out weakly, holding my last paper up in the air, my arm aching. "Doctor's are confused. Could it spread to Manhattan?" A younger man, I guessed him to be in his early twenties, walked over to me brusquely. I offered him a tired smile. "Buy me last pape, Mistah?" He flicked a coin at me and I caught it with ease. "Thank ya, Sir. I 'preciate it." I handed him his paper and began the long walk back to the lodging house. The sun was already beginning to set. I had missed dinner again. I heard the man flipping through the pages of the paper, trying to find the article I had spoken of. "Page eight, Sir," I offered over my shoulder, and then continued walking. It wasn't a big enough lie to have to make a run for it. There was a disease hitting the Bronx. And it could spread to Manhattan. My lie was about the doctors. They knew what it was. They had a cure for it.

It was actually very interesting, as I held a fascination for medicine. I found diseases intriguing, and sometimes I would wander into a hospital, just to watch the men in white coats bustle around, focused expressions of their faces, tiny creases in between their eyebrows. It was all very appealing, and part of me thought that if I wasn't a poor street kid, I would like to go to school and become one of them. Maybe even the first female doctor.

I felt his presence before I saw him. My senses tingled with anticipation, even as I didn't recognize why. I passed an alleyway, not bothering to glance into it until I heard the familiar voice.

"Heya, goigous."

I spun, squinting into the dim alleyway, barely able to make out his figure striking a match and bringing the lighted cigarette to his lips. "Heya, yourself," I answered coolly, pretending as if he hadn't caught me off guard.

"I see we still have some woik to do," he responded just as casually.

"I knew you were there," I defended. "I just chose to ignore you."

He coughed, smoke exiting his mouth and nostrils. "Sure."

"You a vampire or somethin?" I demanded, desperate to change the subject.

"Nah, I don't melt," he replied, seeing where I was going with the question before I got there. He was good like that.

"Ya won't shrivel either," I deadpanned.

"Might burn."

My lips tugged upwards at that one. He did burn easily, not that he would ever admit it to anyone but me. "I don't like alleyways."

"Then ya kin stay out dere, and I'll stay in here and we'll both be happy."

I sighed. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothin'," he responded quickly. Too quickly.

"Come out here." I was beginning to get anxious.

"No."

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't wanna."

"Ya get beat up or somethin?" I teased. He would never stand for that one. He would come out just to prove it wasn't true.

I was wrong.

"It was good ta see you too, Sis," he said, sighing out another stream of smoke before dropping the butt and grinding it under his shoe. "Nice ta see Jacky Boy's taking good care of ya just like I asked."

"Spot…"

"Yeah, dey miss ya. I'll tell dem you said hi."

"Spot," I said, a little more pointedly.

"What?"

"What happened?"

"Just a little brawl." He shrugged. "No biggie."

"How many?" I asked. There had to be a bunch if they got a good swing at my brother.

He rolled his shoulders casually. "Three or four. Maybe five."

"An' how many of us?"

He stood perfectly still. "You're lookin' at 'im."

My eyes widened. "They jumped you? That's ridiculous! It's not even fair! What did you do to them?"

Even in the dim light of the alleyway, I saw his eyes flash. "I didn't do anythin'. I was just waitin' like I said I'd be."

I bit my lip, hating the idea of my brother fighting against so many. "How… how bad did they hurt you?" I could barely hear my question, and I wasn't sure he heard it until he answered.

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

"How bad, Spot?" I demanded.

"I got a good shinah," he offered.

"Let me see you," I pleaded, trying not to let the fear of what had almost happened into my voice.

"Don't freak yourself out, Song," he said calmly. "It wasn't dat bad. I took a couple, and I gave dem more. It's how it woiks. You should know dat."

"Spot, you could have been killed!" I was done trying to hide my fear. It scared the hell out of me that five people had ganged up on my brother while he was alone. If it had been anyone but me he was talking to, I would have cut the number of people in half. But he didn't exaggerate when it was just him and me. If anything, he cut information out to keep me from "freaking out," as he'd put it. I wouldn't be surprised if there had been more than five.

"Aw, come on, Song." He sighed, quickly tiring of the conversation. "Brooklyn don't go down that easy."

"You were alone."

"Your point?" His sharp eyes met mine, daring me to go on.

"You're never alone. There's always someone with you, covering your back."

He lifted his chin slightly, his fingers absently playing with the tip of his cane. "Had some things ta think about."

I looked away. "I hate it here," I stated quietly, allowing the subject to drop for the moment.

"It's safer here," he countered, his voice softer.

"I wanna go home, Spot. I don't wanna be here! Not with Brooklyn being threatened! It's my right to stand up for it just as much as it's yours!"

"No!" he cut in harshly. "It's not."

"It is, Spot! Why are you doing this to me?" I blinked quickly, trying to stay the tears that threatened to fall.

"Because," he said, his voice quieter. "I can."

Fear and frustration drained from me instantly at his words. Now all I felt was fury. "What? All of this," I motion around myself angrily, "is a way to exercise your power?!" I narrowed my eyes at him. "You make me sick, Patrick!"

I jumped as he slammed his cane against the side of the brick wall, the clack of it shooting through me like a bullet. "Shut up, Quinnlyn!" he shouted back at me. "You don't know nothin'!"

"Then enlighten me, O Mighty One!" I shot back. "Or are you too great to even offer me a decent reason!"

He stepped out into the lighted street, his eyes flashing in rage. I gasped, my gaze taking in his swollen left eye, the gash running from his forehead to just above his temple, and the bruises on his neck in the shape of fingers. "Look at me, Quinnlyn!" he demanded, thrusting his arms out to the sides of him, leaving him completely open and vulnerable. "If they can do this to me, they can do worse to you! I love you, damn it!" He was breathing heavily now, but the fire was gone from his eyes. Now they were begging with me. Asking me to understand. His arms dropped limply back at his sides, and he looked away. "I can't let that happen. Not to you."

"Spot," I whimpered, tears gathering once again in my eyes. He looked back at me, his eyes softening as they met mine.

"Hey," he said gently. He stepped forward and brushed away the single tear that had escaped. "None of this, ya hear? I'm okay, alright? Just a little banged up. Does some good for my ego, huh?" he joked. "Right? Ain't that what you's always sayin?"

I nodded mutely, biting back my remaining tears. "I don't wanna lose you," I whispered, allowing him, and him only, to see my emotions, my deepest fears.

He pulled me fiercely into his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around me, making me feel safer in that moment than I had ever felt. "You ain't gonna lose me, Song. I'm not goin' anywhere." His voice rumbled in my ear from where my head rested on his chest.

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, enjoying the fact that in that moment I was just a little sister wrapped in her big brother's hug. In that moment, he was my brother. Just my brother and nothing else. Not the fearless King of Brooklyn. Not the heartless fighter. Not anything. Just a brother who loved his sister more than she ever knew. "You promise?" I asked, fearing the answer. Because Spot Conlon never made promises he couldn't keep.

There was a pause, and I felt his fingers playing with the ends of my hair. I felt his chest expand in a deep breath, and I heard his heartbeat thumping strong in my ear.

"I promise."


	8. Hunger

I dragged myself into the bunkroom, exhaustion making it difficult to focus on where I was placing my feet. It had been three days since Spot's visit making it five days since I'd eaten anything other than the occasional fruit stolen from an unsuspecting vendor. By this point, I had become almost numb to the hunger. During the day, I was too busy selling my papers to bother with food. I absolutely refused to come back with papers in my hand, and that meant focusing all my attention on selling… not eating. By the time I had finished, the sun was just about set, and if I ever wanted to get any sleep, I was heading straight to the lodging house. Besides that, I had no idea where to go to get some decent food. The others talked about a place called Tibby's, but never about where it was located.

Yesterday, Jack had asked me if I was eating. I told him I was. I don't even know why I lied, probably out of habit. In Brooklyn, nobody actually talks about how they feel, and they very rarely respond truthfully to questions asked straight. Sometimes it's easier to lie than to deal with people's reactions to the truth. In any case, I lied. And I'm pretty sure Jack didn't buy it, but he let it go, just like I knew he would. Jack had never been one for confrontations.

Collapsing on my bunk, I shut my eyes, sleep about ready to devour me. _Tomorrow, _I told myself. _Tomorrow I'll get some food… if I can sell my papers fast enough. _It seemed as though I was selling slower and slower with each day, getting worse instead of improving. The exhaustion and lack of concentration that came from not eating certainly wasn't helping matters.

I reached down to pull the covers up over me, but I lacked the strength to do so. Groaning, I let my hands fall where they were. My head wasn't even on the pillow.

Suddenly, I felt a presence next to me. I demanded my eyes to open, but they didn't respond. My covers were quietly tucked around me, and a rough, calloused hand gently lifted my head and placed it on the pillow. I felt the heat from the tips of fingers near my forehead, as if to brush my hair away from my face, but they stopped, just before they touched, and then retracted. I listened to the footsteps pat away, the squeak of a bunk as a body entered it, the rustling of covers pulled around the person, and then all was silent. I briefly wondered who had acted so kindly before I fell into the black abyss of sleep.

**JACK'S POV**

"She ain't eatin', Cowboy."

I flicked my gaze from the mirror to the person standing beside me. "Told me she was," I replied before lifting my chin and sliding the blade beneath it. I swished it around in the water-filled sink before lifting it to my face again.

"Well, she ain't."

"Race," I began, pausing to shave quickly beneath my nose. "Just 'cause ya can't stand 'er, don't mean ya gotta make stuff up about 'er."

"Jack." I turned my gaze to his. He rarely called me Jack.

"Ya really don't think she is, do you?"

He splashed water on his face and reached for the towel beside him. Skittery, seeing this, made a grab for it, but I got to it faster. I shot Skittery a glare, which he returned in annoyance, before handing the towel to the groping Racetrack. He patted his face dry and then turned his eyes back to meet mine. "Take one look at 'er and you'd know. She ain't eatin."

"She's always been tiny, Race."

"Dis is different. She's exhausted. Gettin' back later an' later. Last night, she couldn't even pull da covers up around 'erself. Practically collapsed into 'er bunk."

I lifted an eyebrow. "And you would know this how?"

He shrugged, looking away. "I'se a light sleepah."

"Uh-huh," I replied, watching his retreating back before turning back to my reflection.

"Hey, Cowboy," his voice called, capturing my attention again. "Ya can't ever go wrong with cinnamon rolls

Maybe he didn't hate her so much after all.

0o0o0o0

**SONG'S POV**

"Song!"

The voice drifted into my sleep as if coming through a tunnel, and my mind barely registered the interruption.

Something pushed at my shoulder. "Song, wake up!"

My mind woke with the louder tone. I groaned and forced my heavy eyelids to open. I saw Jack hovering over me and I immediately pushed my hair away from my face. This was exactly why I got up before everyone else… so that they didn't have to see me in my not-so-lovely bedraggled state.

"Time ta sell?" I asked, wincing at the sound of my sleep-coated voice.

"Time ta eat," he replied, giving me a pointed look. "Get dressed an' then come find me, got it?"

I sighed as I nodded. "Got it."

ooooooo

I took the stairs slowly. I felt extremely lightheaded, and I wasn't sure I was going to make it down them all without falling, but eventually I reached the bottom. One scan of the lobby told me Jack wasn't there. I leaned on the door and practically fell out of the lodging house and into the beginning day. "Jack?" I called weakly.

"Distribution, toots," an all too familiar voice informed.

I looked down to see Racetrack sitting a few steps below me. "What are you doin' here?" I demanded, irritated to have encountered him so early in the morning.

"Waitin' for my ride," he said, his eyes never leaving the street. "You?"

"Leaving," I answered coldly and began to descend the steps, but the mixture of hunger, exhaustion, and newly introduced frustration made me lose my balance and I suddenly found myself diving toward the cement stairs. Strong, rough fingers wrapped around my wrist and stopped me inches before I was to smack my face into the edge of a step. The fingers released me as soon as I had gathered my footing.

"Watch yer step, Conlon," the voice was harder this time, less sarcastic. Before I could say anything in response, he whisked by me and onto a passing carriage as if it was something he did every day.

_Probably is, _I thought to myself as I absently rubbed the wrist his fingers had touched.

"Song!" another voice called and I turned toward it, seeing Jack waving at me from across the street. "C'mon! I think I found somethin' you'll like!"

How he would know what I did and didn't like was a mystery to me, but I followed him anyway, too weak to argue. A few moments later we turned down a street I had never seen before. Jack touched my shoulder and motioned with his head to where he was holding a door open. I entered the shop and was met with the most heavenly smell I could have imagined. I closed my eyes and just breathed, imagining all sorts of scrumptious morsels that could be connected to such smells. But one item became the most prominent in my mind as I stood there, and it made my stomach growl in anticipation.

"Do ya like cinnamon rolls?" Jack asked. He was casually leaning against a counter, and just over his left shoulder was a rack of steaming, golden-brown cinnamon rolls practically oozing creamy white frosting. "It's on me," he said with a smile that said he knew he'd hit his mark. It could have been a man's intuition, or perhaps it was the drool practically leaking from my mouth. Either way, he had hit the bull's eye. With a wink, he turned to the man behind the counter. "I'll take one of those, please," he said, gesturing to the rolls.

"That one," I specified, pointing at the biggest one with the most frosting. The elderly worker chuckled.

"Of course. That'll be twenty cents."

I froze. Twenty cents? That was a lot for a newsie to dish out on breakfast, but it was way too much to dish out for another person's breakfast. "Ya know what?" I cut it before the man could wrap his fingers around the gooey goodness of the tantalizing cinnamon pastry. "How much is a bagel?"

He gave me a quizzical look, but answered anyway. "Seven cents, Miss."

"I'll take a blueberry one," I said. "Please."

"Song, it's okay. You can get a cinnamon roll," Jack said..

"I want a bagel," I replied quickly. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn't dare to meet them for fear he'd see the lie in mine.

"Song…"

"Honestly, Jack, I'm so hungry I could eat just about anything. A bagel sounds heavenly."

He sighed. "Give her the cinnamon roll," he commanded the baker and promptly laid twenty cents down on the table. "Do it quick before she can convince you she doesn't want it."

"I don't want it!" I protested weakly, my eyes glued to the cinnamon roll, watching how it gave underneath the man's fingers. I licked my lips and decided to stop pretending I didn't want it. I would find a way to pay Jack back for it. I had to, I realized. Conlon's didn't take charity.

Jack smiled as he handed the pastry to me. "There you are, Song. Don't eat it too fast."

I held it, relishing the warmth of it in my hands and the scent of it filling my lungs. Reverently, I slid a finger through the frosting that was melting down the side and stuck it in my mouth. My eyes slid shut in ecstasy. Food had never tasted so good. "Oh, Jack," I sighed. "It's… it's…"

"Good?" he offered.

"Amazing!" I exclaimed, meeting his eyes and letting them convey my appreciation and adoration of the man who had just bought me the most heavenly treat created.

"You're welcome, Song," he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

I held it out to him. "Want a bite?"

He looked as though he was about to say 'no,' but slowly he nodded his head. "I think I might. Can't say it doesn't _sound _good." He gave me a pointed, teasing grin before tearing off a piece. He popped it into his mouth, his eyes lighting up as he chewed. "It _is_ good… _really_ good."

"Jack, this is so far _beyond_ good…" I muttered before stuffing another piece of it into my mouth.

"Alright, whatever you say," he gave in. "Finish up, though, Song. We have papes ta sell."

He didn't have to ask me twice.

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**A/N**: Okay, so this chapter was semi-pointless, but fun to write. Hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks to all those who reviewed! Keep it up, cuz it keeps me going! Love to all of you lovely readers!

_NarniaRulz_: Yes, sadly, our beloved Spot is ever so human. lol Thanks for the encouragement. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

_Harmony Remarc_: Thanks! I kinda tried to cram a whole bunch of emotion into one little chapter, and your review told me that it got it where I wanted it to go!

_Chacotan_: Wow, thank you so much! Your review made me so happy! Of course, I love any reviews I get, but I do put a lot of work into my stories and it makes my day when someone takes a little time to write a lengthy review and let me know what they liked or disliked about my story and why. I hope you continue to enjoy this story! I wouldn't want to let you down!

_Dimonah Tralon_: Ha ha… I'll keep that in mind! Specs, huh? Can't say I see that particular guy requested a lot, but he's pretty awesome! Of course, they're all adorable and awesome in their own little ways, aren't they? lol Thanks for the review, and I hope you continue to enjoy!

_Equestriad_: Thank you! Hope you liked this chapter!

_Feeldaforce_: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed! As for Spot keeping his promise… you'll just have to keep reading to find out! lol

_Matisse: _Ah, my friend! I miss you too! So much! I'm sorry your Christmas was so sucky! (tears) Tell your family you want to live with your mom so you can move back and I can see you again! It's ever so lonely around here without you! Okay… on to the story. I'm glad you enjoyed! It's about time you caught up! lol And I'm totally with you on HB. I like it too. Oh, and Libba Bray is amazing and one day I am going to write like her and become just as popular as her and create a character just as hott and lovable as Kartik and fall in love with him and not share him with anyone! 'nuff said.


	9. Confrontation

**A/N**: I am SO, so sorry this has taken so long to update! I had about half of this chapter written when I posted chapter 7, and then I just couldn't decide how to end it. When I finally decided, I had no time to write because I found out that I got a pretty major role in my school's musical (very exciting!) and it has literally sucked up all my precious time! However, I am now on Spring Break and have had plenty of time to write. I'm hoping to put another chapter out sometime this week, but I make no promises! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! And thanks to all those who kept up with me via review or email. You guys mean so much to me!

_Quirky Del _I was so excited when I saw that you caught up! Your reviews were so entertaining! lol I'm glad I've been keeping you on your toes and that you can't tell what's going to happen next. (smug smile) You'll just have to keep reading to find out, I guess. :D I'm so happy you are still enjoying this story, and may I nag you once again to get a move on with FPF?! I gosh darn love that story and I am dying without any updates! I know I'm such a hypocrite in saying that, but... I really, really want you to update! Lots of luv and a Happy Easter wish!

_Dimonah Tralon _Ha ha. Yeah, I totally wanted a cinnamon roll after I wrote that too! Thanks for being such a faithful reviewer! I love reading your comments!

_Harmony Remarc _Man, I just made everyone hungry! lol And yes, Race has been a very good little boy as of late, hasn't he? The question is... will he be good in this chapter? :D I hope you enjoy!

_FeeldaForce _Yes, everybody seems to want to know what's going on in Race's finite boy mind. However, I shall not give in to pressure! lol And, again, I'm sorry I didn't hurry with this update. However, I hope you're still with me and haven't forgetten too much of what has happened. Enjoy!

_geek'd _Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. You'll just have to keep reading! lol

_Kutestar94 _This chapter's a little longer, I think. Plus it has a little more plot than the last one. I hope you enjoy it!

_Matisse _My dear, sweet friend! I miss you so much! I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter and that you like this one as well! It pleases me ever so much! lol Yes, I am copying your lame attempt at a British accent. I'm so glad I can do it so much better! (note sarcasm) You'd think after weeks of having to use on onstage, I'd have gotten the hang of it, but... no. :( Oh, well. I updated before I got your changes, so I may not have caught all the bad stuff, but I was impatient, what can I say? And, yeah... don't make fun of my vocab usage. (sticks out tongue)

Wow! That was a ton of reviews! Can we do that again? Maybe you guys can beat it... can I get ten reviews on one chapter, you think? (hopes) Okay, well... enjoy!

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"There you go, ma'am. Thank you," I said, trading the woman my last paper for a penny. She nodded brusquely and sauntered off into the bustling crowd. I looked around, noting how light it was still. A slow smile made its way across my face. I was finished selling.

I walked toward the lodging house with a spring in my step. I had finished selling at a normal time. For the first time, I was going to get to eat with the rest of the newsies. Talk with them, get to know their jokes, and, best of all, stop hearing smart comments about my selling from a certain Italian.

"Deah me! Is that the Brooklyn queen?"

"Speak of the devil," I muttered. Sitting on the steps, pretending to squint at me, was Racetrack. A cigar hung lazily from his mouth, his teeth worrying the end of it.

"Conlon, you done sellin' before sunset?" He thumped his hand against his chest in feigned surprise. "It's a miracle! People of New York: there is a God!"

"Shut yer trap," I growled, my good mood dissipating rapidly.

He took his cigar out of his mouth and shook his head sadly. "Still got that bad attitude, I see. That must be genetic."

"You referrin' to my brother, Higgins?"

"And what if I am?" He leaned back against the steps, dark eyebrows raised challengingly.

"Then you'd be right," I surrendered, stepping past him. His hearty bark of laughter followed me into the building.

"Song? Hey, fellahs! Song's back!"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled. "Rub it in like the midget why don't cha, Jack?"

He gave me his lopsided grin. "Higgins givin' ya a hard time again?"

"Hard?" I repeated sarcastically.

"As rock," Race's voice sounded from behind me. "Ya know, Cowboy… I think she's gettin' used ta it."

I shot a glare over my shoulder, but it was lost on him. He was squinting into the dimmer half of the room. "Whatcha starin' at, Midge?"

He gave me an irritated look but didn't comment on the height reference. If I was getting used to his comments, he had to be getting used to mine. Instead of answering me, he looked over at Jack. "Ya know 'im, Cowboy?"

Jack gave him a puzzled look. "Know who?"

Race squinted again, and this time I followed his gaze. My eyes found the darkest corner of the room in time to see the shadows shift, and my pulse immediately skyrocketed. I knew who was in those shadows, and with the realization came a thousand different emotions that I had tried so hard to bury over the past couple weeks. Seeming to sense my recognition, Race looked back at me. "Ah… so 'e's your friend, eh, Song? Figures." With a shrug, he sauntered over to another part of the room where a few of the other newsies were playing a game of cards. My eyes never left the corner.

"Looks like your boyfriend's back," Jack's voice stated beside me. My eyes, once again, didn't move.

"He ain't my boyfriend, Jack," I snapped, but my lips tingled in remembrance of the last time I'd seen him. "Ya know what? We're not even friends."

I turned around and walked out the door into the coming night. I didn't want to face him. Not there, in the midst of a room full of curious spectators. Not while I was still unsure of how I even felt about the last time we'd been together.

"Song!"

The sound of his voice made my heart beat even faster, and I quickened my pace, praying that I'd rounded the corner before he had exited.

"Song, wait!" I heard his steps come nearer. I stopped, knowing I would never outrun him. A moment later, he rounded the corner and halted upon sighting me. "What's your problem?" he demanded, dark eyes sparking his indignance at being ignored.

I walked up to him until we were face to face. "Ya wanna know what my problem is, Shadow?" When he didn't reply, I drew my hand back and hit him as hard as I could across the face. Red marks in the likeness of my fingers quickly bloomed on his cheek. Before he could recover, I raised my hand to do the same to the other side, but his rough fingers wrapped themselves around my wrist halfway there.

"What the hell, Song!" he screamed at me.

"Let go of me," I shouted back.

"Not until you let me know what the hell your problem is," He countered just as hotly.

"Figure it out," I growled.

He twisted my arm behind my back and drew me in until I could feel his breath against my face. "I'm not into guessing games, Conlon." He spat my name as if it were poison in his mouth.

Tears pricked at my eyes as emotion threatened to overwhelm me. "You kissed me!" I gave in. "You didn't even ask if I wanted you to! How was I supposed to know what that meant?!" A single hot tear ran down my cheek. "And then… then you turn around and betray us?"

I gasped as his strong hands shoved me back against the wall. "How dare you," he whispered, white rage coating his tone.

"They told me about you, Shadow," I answered. My voice no longer held emotion. I had gone beyond the point of feeling, not even having the capacity to be afraid of the fact that he had me cornered against a wall and easily possessed double my strength. "They told me that you joined them. That you hate my brother. Traitor."

"You're a filthy liar!" he screamed, his hand lifting as if about to strike me.

"Don't you dare touch her!" another voice demanded, successfully halting Shadow's action. A moment later, he was pulled off me, and I sank to the ground, finally realizing what had almost happened.

"Song… Song, are you okay?" I looked up to see Jack standing over me, concern etched into his features. "Did he hit you?"

I shook my head, barely comprehending his words. He reached down and gently lifted me from the ground. "Race, she shaking," he said over my head. "I've never seen 'er like this."

"Give 'er to me," the same voice that had stopped Shadow replied. Jack reluctantly released me into rougher hands, and I found myself staring into deep brown eyes. "C'mon, Song. What kind of Brooklynite are you? Ya gonna let that bother ya, huh? Suck it up, Conlon!"

Anger whipped through me at his words. "Shut up, Race!" I snarled, shoving him away from me. "You don't know nothin'!"

A grin softened his features. "There she is, Cowboy. I got 'er back."

"Thanks for being so gentle about it," came his sarcastic reply.

Race shrugged. "She don't need someone ta pamper 'er. She's a Conlon, ain't that right, Song?"

I ignored him and walked over to where Mush and Bumlets had Shadow pinned to the ground. His dark eyes glared up at me. "You're a traitor," I whispered. "Look me in the eyes and call me a liar."

His eyes never left mine.

"Liar."


	10. Strategy

**A/N**: Wow. I don't even know what to say. It's been almost a year now since I last updated. Maybe even exactly a year, possibly over. I have no idea. I'll be amazed if any of my faithful reviewers are even still with me. I have no excuse except for that I lost my love of the Newsies (gasp!) and never planned to finish this story. But, because of some of the amazingly encouraging and sweet (if not slightly threatening) reviews I received recently from a couple of you - as well as a sudden urge to listen once again to the _Newsies_ soundtrack - I went back and re-read what I had written and once again fell in love with the characters and plot. I can't promise much as I'm currently involved in two musicals and about to graduate, but I shall try my very hardest to finish this story before the end of the summer. I really do love writing, and I especially love this story and the direction it's headed. So… hang with me! Don't let me quit again! Thanks again to all of those who reminded me that people besides me enjoy this story and want to see it completed. I needed to know that.

And now… I present to you, for the first time ever: Chapter Nine.

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_**Recap:**_

_I walked over to where Mush and Bumlets had Shadow pinned to the ground. His dark eyes glared up at me. "You're a traitor," I whispered. "Look me in the eyes and call me a liar." _

_His eyes never left mine._

"_Liar."_

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I paced around the first floor of the lodging house. Jack, Race, and Kid Blink sat on the couch in one of the corners, watching me. I glared at them before I started to pace back the other way. Race rolled his eyes, Kid looked away, and Jack sighed.

It had been two hours since we had returned to the lodging house, locked Shadow in a window-less room with a guard, and sent word to my brother that something had happened and he needed to get here. So why wasn't he?

"Song…"

"Shut up, Jack," I snapped. "He'll be here."

"Oookay." He backed away and returned to his seat on the shabby sofa.

Just then, the door slammed open, and I turned to find eyes eerily similar to mine flashing in the doorway.

"Took ya long enough," I said, walking up to him. "What'd ya do, take a bath first?"

"Shove off, Song," he snapped back with just as much venom. "You ain't got no idea what's goin' on in Brooklyn."

"And whose fault is that?" I snarled.

"Mine," he allowed without pause. "And dere ain't been a day I regretted it, so let's get down ta business, shall we?"

He stepped past me into the light, and I saw the bruises on his neck and eye had turned to a light greenish-yellow color. His eyes fell on Jack, who was looking at him as though he hadn't actually expected him to show. "Care ta explain why I'se here, Jacky-boy?"

Jack stood. "Well, Spot…" he paused, seemingly unsure how to continue."

"You'se here because Shadow showed up," Racetrack stepped in, walking past Jack and up to Spot. "And 'e almost beat da shit outta yer sistah for callin' 'im a traitor before we brought 'im back 'ere ta wait fer you and yer incredibly slow ass!"

Spot hadn't flinched despite Race's close proximity to his face, but when he had finished, Spot shoved him back a few feet and gave him a look that told him exactly how out of line that had been before he turned to me. "He touch you?"

I shook my head. He nodded and looked down at his cane, inspecting its brass top.

"Why'd you call 'im a traitor?"

"Cuz 'e is," I spat.

Spot's eyes narrowed. "Them's heavy words, Song. Shadow's always been my most trusted newsie-"

"But he ain't a newsie, is 'e, Spot?" I demanded, cutting him off. "Ya know… he used ta be my best friend before he got all buddy-buddy wit' Lynx and Wasp."

Spot turned to Kid Blink. "Bring 'im out 'ere."

A few moments later Mush and Bumlets led Shadow into the room. His dark eyes landed on me first, and I caught a hint of sadness in them before they left me to look at Spot. "Well, well," he drawled casually. "Look what the cat drug in."

"Makin' jokes probably ain't in yer best interest at da moment, Shadow," my brother responded just as casually.

Shadow nodded slowly. "So… you's all filled in, I see?"

Spot said nothing for a moment, proceeding to breathe onto the tip of his cane and polish it on his shirt with meticulous care. I watched, intrigued, having never seen him do such a thing before, and tried to decide what it meant.

Finally, just when I though the tension in the room was about to crush me, he spoke. "Shore, I hoid what they got to say." He looked up from his cane and met Shadow's eyes dead on. "Now I'm jist wonderin' what you's got ta say."

Shadow snorted. "My woid against hers?" he scoffed, jerking his head in my direction, eyes never leaving Spot. "I ain't stupid enough ta think you'd take it."

Spot frowned thoughtfully. "Alright."

"But," Shadow continued, a small smirk lifting the left side of his mouth. "I'd be interested in hearin' where our dear Song got her information." His dark eyes were suddenly focused on me again, and I found myself struggling to breathe. They were so deep and intense…

"Well?"

I tore my gaze from Shadow's to meet Spot's glittering eyes. "Well, what?"

"You heard 'im."

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't answer to traitors."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Shadow shift at the name. Mush and Bumlets immediately tensed, ready to physically stop him should he try anything like earlier, but he didn't move again.

"Then answer to me," my brother's cold voice replied. "Where'd you hear that 'e was speakin' wit da enemy?"

I averted my gaze. "A reliable source."

"But it couldn't possibly have been Lynx 'imself, could it, dahlin'?"

I gritted my teeth at Shadow's insolent drawl, but didn't respect it with an answer or a glare. "Who's it gonna be, Spot? Me or him?"

Spot studied me for a moment, his sharp eyes boring into mine until I was sure he saw the answer in them. However, when he spoke, his words were not what I was expecting. "Ya got any food in dis dump Jacky-boy? I had to skip dinnah ta get 'ere befoah dark."

Jack blinked. "Uh… sure, Spot. We could probably find you something." He looked around the small audience in the room. "Boots… go get something for Spot ta eat."

Boots nodded and ran out of the room. Everyone else continued to stare. Spot leaned against his cane and glanced lazily around the room. "Ain't you fellas got nothin' bettah ta do?" The spectators shifted uncomfortably, but made no attempt to leave. Spot's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Do I need to spell it out for ya, bums? Cheese it."

The room exploded with motion, and, in the end, only Jack, Race, Mush, and Bumlets remained. Spot nodded toward the later. "Let 'im go. He ain't gonna do nothin'."

Hesitantly, the two boys released their grip on Shadow's arms, which he proceeded to rub tenderly. "Got quite a grip there Meyers."

Mush just glared before following his friend out of the room. Spot sighed before walking over to a couch and sitting down. "I coulda done without dis, ya know, Song."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I spat sarcastically. "Next time a traitor threatens to strike me across the face I'll try to physically stop your brainless spies."

"I wouldn't have hit you," Shadow stated from my right. I could feel his eyes burning the side of my face. "I would never hurt you, Song."

I blinked back tears as I finally realized the truth in his words. I _knew_ Shadow. How could I have believed the words of my enemy over my best friend?

"Dammit, how long does it take ta make a sandwich around here?" Spot irritated voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Spot…" I began, but he waved his hand, cutting me off.

"Yeah, I know. I was jist waitin' for ya ta figure it out."

I scowled. "Sorry to have wasted your time."

He chuckled. "Waste my time on you? Nevah. It was 'bout time I made a visit anyway." He stood and stretched. "But with the way things are in Brooklyn…" he trailed off, glancing at Shadow. "You could've told 'er, ya know."

Shadow glared. "Why do you think I came here?"

Spot nodded once and sighed. Then he turned back to me. "So we's established dat Shadow ain't a traitor."

I glowered. "Yeah, yeah. And I'se an idiot. Ya got a point?"

"Yeah, I do, ya mind letting me share it?"

The look I got for interrupting silenced anything else I had to say, so I simply nodded my answer.

"Good." Spot leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it before he continued. "Ya see, we'se got a strategy in Brooklyn. And part of that strategy involves some complicated shit." He took a drag and slowly blew out the smoke before continuing. "Now, I ain't gonna tell you all of it. And you'll just have to deal wit' dat," he added as I began to protest, "but you gotta know dat in a war like dis one, someone's gotta have eyes on da enemy."

All at once, it clicked. I turned to Shadow who was watching me closely to see how I'd respond. "You playin' birdie, Shadow?"

He shrugged. "If that's what cha wanna call it, yeah."

"No shit." I laughed softly. "I nevah woulda pinned ya fer da type."

"Who bettah ta toin against me den my closest ally?" Spot cut in.

I began to put more pieces together, liking the idea more and more as I discovered it's tiny complexities. "So… you tell him what information to feed Lynx ta keep 'im happy, and den he tells you whatevah he knows from hangin' around wit' Lynx and dem?"

Shadow smiled and winked. "I knew you'd get it."

"Yeah, yeah. She's not as dumb as a stump," Spot drawled impatiently. "Now, here's what I wanna know." He turned, and I was suddenly smothered by his penetrating stare. "When did you get your little visit from Lynx and why didn't I know about it soonah?"

I stared down at my scuffed shoes, desperately trying to escape the ice of his gaze. "Uh… I dunno… a couple weeks ago?"

Spot coughed, the only indication I got that he was surprised. "Huh. So what'd 'e say ta you? Cuz Shadow only found out that you knew 'bout him woiken wit' Lynx yestahday."

I looked at Shadow. "Lynx tell you?"

Shadow nodded, eyes darkening with emotion. "He said you didn't want to believe it. That you were devastated." He rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat, looking away from me. "Took all I had ta act like it didn't mattah when all I wanted to do was run straight here and tell you it was all a lie."

"But that ain't important," Spot cut in. "What's important is why you didn't tell me you knew the last time I was here."

I was saved from answering by Boots returning with Spot's sandwich. It wasn't much; just a couple scraps of meat and some half-molded bread, but Spot took it with a mutter of gratitude and a nod of dismissal. Boots grinned at him before leaving the room.

I watched in silence as Spot tore the sandwich in half before looking toward the door and then back at the sandwich as if in invitation. A dirty boy about my size materialized from the shadows and gratefully took the offered food. He glanced at me from under thick eyelashes. "Heya, Song."

"Rat," I acknowledged, glad to see that Spot hadn't taken the possibly fatal chance of coming to Manhattan alone. "How's it rollin'?"

He shrugged. "Can't complain."

I turned back to Spot who was taking a bite of his half of the sandwich, but before I could say a word, my stomach growled angrily. My cheeks flushed, and I looked away, realizing that in all the excitement I had missed dinner once again.

"You eat?"

"Yeah, 'coise I did, Spot," I lied. "Jist makin' a little less money here in 'Hattan, ya know? Gotta get used ta da people 'ere, figure out what dey wanna hear." I smiled sweetly and met his skeptical gaze. "I'll get da hang of it, easy."

His gaze lingered heavy and long enough for me to lose the fake smile. "You'se a rotten liah, Song. Always have been." He tossed the half-sandwich at me and I caught it out of reflex. "We'se gottah woik on that."

"Spot, I don't want it," I said, holding it out for him to take back. "Really, I'm fine."

"Eat the sandwich, Song. It ain't dat big of a deal."

"No! It's yours!" I insisted.

"And I gave it ta you, so eat it," he countered in that annoyingly sensible, calm voice that he used whenever he thought I was being an immense thorn in his side.

"Dammit, Spot," I choked out past the lump that had suddenly appeared in my throat. "Can't I ever do anything for you?"

I threw the sandwich at his feet, knowing full well the childishness of my actions, and then fled the room before the tears of embarrassment and frustration could escape.


End file.
